


Revival

by ImJustNutty



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Synthesis Ending, it has a happy plot, post-ME3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3062474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImJustNutty/pseuds/ImJustNutty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pain doesn't go away after the praises and legends are told, and certainly not after Garrus adds Shepard's name to the list of those who lost their lives for the cause.<br/>It does go away, however, when she returns to rip her name off that list.</p><p>Post Synthesis ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You don’t just get over the death of your better half by sticking her name—no, her rank and last name—on a wall, a list of _dead people’s names_ and just walk away from it all.

Garrus watched as everyone else retreated to their usual stations, with the crew back to where they were needed and the former squad (‘former’ seemed like an apt term, since now there was no real need to go around killing things, with everyone glowing green and being all understanding to each other now. What in the world had she done up there in the Citadel?) ambling about slightly aimlessly.

Dr. Chakwas had done a thorough examination of her own cells, and run diagnostics with EDI’s help. Having slightly more clues as to what had happened to all of them after the green beam had bathed the universe in light that never seemed to leave their flesh now, the doctor was certainly quite terrified as she explained how they were all, essentially, part synthetic lifeform. EDI was quite delighted that she now had organic bits too (she had tried to explain something about compounds and proteins and unidentified respiratory pathways, but he hadn’t been in the mood to put his mind to it). Lost in his thoughts, Garrus realised he was no longer standing in front of the wall, but was instead in front of a door. A door where he had once stood, holding a bottle of Earth champagne and rehearsing his best pick-up lines from some vid he had watched.

He wasn’t sure what would hurt more: walking in there, or punching the door until it broke. Then he could make is a….cat box. Shepard had mentioned it once. Schrodinger’s box. The sealed room, that could hold a live Commander Shepard, or a dead Commander Shepard, and no one would know the truth.

“Garrus?”

He blinked. “What is it, EDI?”

“Please do not break the door. I know you are upset, but I’m sure Shepard would not want you to hurt your hand breaking that door. Although, it looks like you’ve already managed that without using any physical force.”

Garrus stepped back, staring at the door. Under the interface panel there appeared to be a dent in the metal. “Did I…do that?”

“Apparently that beam affected the entire Normandy, seeing as I am part of it. Hence my ability to pick up some of your thoughts just from you…thinking them at the door. And also your ability to affect the material with increased compatibility with the ship itself. Which is apparently now partly alive.”

“Sweet. Soon the Thanix cannon can calibrate itself. Or talk to me. And hopefully thank me for all the calibrating I did for it,” he tried, cracking a small smile.

_All the calibrating I did instead of talking to her while she—_

“Garrus, perhaps you shouldn’t go in there just yet. Why don’t you go down and talk to Major Alenko? He is gathering Lieutenant Vega and Dr. T’Soni for a round of poker.”

He looked at the door with a gaze that was equal parts agony and desire.

“Sounds good.”

 

 

Being part synthetic changed a lot of aspects of life. And death.

“Well, this is awkward,” Garrus muttered, tapping a finger against his clipboard. “You’re saying you died….three years ago. But you’re not only _not_ dead, you’re also ….mostly made of metal now, and also previously in the employment of a certain Reaper we call Harbinger.”

“Rargh,” replied the Marauder. Garrus sighed, setting the clipboard down.

He, and all the other people in the galaxy, was fully capable of understanding what the Marauder said despite it having a lower jaw partially decomposed. Or perhaps it was just rusty. Hard to tell with these servants of Reapers. It was almost as if he had an inbuilt translator and communicator in his brain now, and they could probably send messages and thoughts to each other in close range just by thinking at them. At first it had seemed like it was weak, barely functioning, but then as the days went by the…information came in full force. It wasn’t painful or distracting, it just seemed to come naturally. Too naturally. Every now and then Garrus would just open his mouth and say something just to reassure himself that once upon a time, people did this thing called _talking_.

Still, this form of communication made it useful when sorting out the new influx of citizens formerly assumed dead/indoctrinated/part-Reaper-scum, and as it turned out there were a lot. Garrus had returned to Palaven, helping Primarch Victus lead the other leaders of the nation in building, allocating resources and sorting out the dead.

And as thanks for having warned everyone of the Reapers, he was assigned to deal with the ex-Marauders, Brutes, and Cannibals.

“Take a seat down with the, uh, rest.” He said, but before the words could leave his mouth the Marauder had already begun moving. At least this he could get used to—complete understanding and courtesy to counter staff.

It had been two weeks since the end of the Reaper War, and despite the initial confusion the individual races were quick to get back on their feet. Yes, they mourned and buried their dead, but the humans were back to rebuilding Earth, starting from London, which was where the remainder of Earth’s population dwelt. The bulk of asari, including Liara, rushed back to Thessia to treat the wounded and assess damage. From what he’d heard from Wrex, the krogan were adapting quite smoothly, getting right back to repopulating Tuchanka and whatever other colonies they had set their sights on. Wrex’s son was already born, and he had shared this news with a huge grin. “Although,” he added, smile fading, “we lost many brave men at the final stand on Earth, so some of the new krogan young will have no fathers.”

“If any of your women are interested in my dashing good looks and scars, you just say the word, Wrex,” Garrus had replied, thinking back to Shepard’s suggestion that they do precisely that.

“Ha! I’ll keep you updated.” As the com link broke, Garrus shivered slightly. Wrex sounded very serious.

The most shocking thing was the Reapers who suddenly turned as docile as kittens, floating about debris almost awkwardly and picking up large pieces of concrete to aid in rescue efforts. They seemed almost cute, hovering about like oversized drones, but he could never erase the memories of them with their gigantic red lasers of destruction, slicing through flesh and bone like they were nothing but dust in the wind. One had communicated with him, in his mind. He could never quite forget it. There was a humming sound as he walked into an office space that he was meant to occupy for the duration of the rebuilding. Garrus had checked his omni-tool, and it was then that he realised the sound was in his head. It felt like an itch under his skull.

_Understanding….now?_

“I hear you,” he said aloud, cautiously.

 _Primitive method of communication needless._ And after that a whole bunch of images, sounds, _experiences_ flooded his brain, and he cried out.

 _Too primitive to fully comprehend. Shall cease now._ Like a floodgate had closed, suddenly the inflow stopped. Garrus blinked frantically, and realised he was kneeling on the ground, fingers clutching the edge of the table in front of him.

“Y-yeah. Still mostly organic, here.” Still, analysing the series of information he had just witnessed, he sorted them out. Holding one of the images in his mind, he tried to understand it. It was a scene of a group of…something. Slightly differences, but of the same type. His mandibles twitched at the realisation.

“A Reaper? Some ancient race?”

_Affirmative._

After that Garrus had tried his best to follow the Reaper’s way of communication, without speaking. He was fascinated as he learned about this old race that had existed many cycles before this one, and soon it in turn picked up on his current situation, of what they were to do with the many “repurposed” organics. “Reintegration to society doesn’t seem probable,” he had said.

_With so few of the ‘old’ society left, would it matter?_

“Yes,” he thought, quickly.

_We will begin computing a plausible solution, with the other preserved races._

“You would…do that? For us?”

_We would do what we wished could have been done for us._

As the presence of the Reaper faded, Garrus jerked with a start. He hadn’t realised he had sunken into a semi-conscious state, having immersed himself completely in communication with the Reaper. The room was almost pitch black now, where it was mid-afternoon just earlier.

And then it struck him that he had spent hours. In the mind of a Reaper.

He pushed himself out of the chair and straight into the adjacent bathroom as he threw up into the toilet.

 

 

It was now two months after the end of the war.

Garrus stood next to Liara as they watched the Marauder strapped to the table through the bulletproof glass window.

 _Ready?_ Garrus directed it to the patient.

Liara closed her eyes and stretched out a hand over the console before her as green data streams emanated from the display. It was a prototype of what the Reapers had come up with to reverse what they themselves had done to the organic lifeforms. Garrus knew that if he had seen it a few months before he would have gawked at its lack of buttons or screens. But there was no need for such things now.

Garrus watched as the Marauder squirmed a little under its restraints, green light glowing from its body. His eyes widened as he leaned forward, watching as muscles knitted over the exposed metallic skeleton, and eventually a base epidermis layer followed by pale grey plates, smooth as a newborn turian’s.

“It worked,” he breathed aloud.

Liara’s eyes opened, glowing a bright green. “Hold still,” she mumbled, though Garrus heard it mentally as well. The Marauder—now mostly turian again—stilled, eyes widening as he beheld his own restoration.

At last Liara stepped away, the green light fading. Garrus burst through the door, rushing to the side of the turian who looked more dazed than anything else.

“Are you feeling alright? Is there anywhere that’s hurting?” he asked, almost tripping over his words.

“No…I feel…like a turian again.” Garrus quickly undid the restraints, fingers trembling slightly from the excitement of this monumental discovery. He sat up, staring at his hands, his mandibles falling slightly in astonishment, and cautiously his three fingers touched his face.

He turned to Garrus, with tears in his eyes. “Thank you, sir. I…don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

Garrus’ mind felt like it had short circuited. “Well, for starters, you could get all your Marauder friends to come here now,” he managed.

 

“It worked,” he gasped again, as he and Liara walked from the medical centre on Palaven back to the Palaven Redevelopment and Restoration Bureau.

“Yes. The Reaper who assisted you certainly did a good job,” she said, smiling. When the former crew of the Normandy met, they spoke aloud. Even if they had grown more used to communicating mentally, they wanted to hold on to this one part of their former lives. “Have you found out what the name of their species was?”

“It won’t tell me. I’ve taken to calling it Bob.”

“Bob?” she asked, amusement on her lips.

Garrus shrugged. “It likes the name.”

The Reaper—Bob—was not at its usual hovering spot above the Bureau, and Liara parted ways with Garrus at the main door. He headed straight for the Primarch’s office, submitting his record of the scientific documentation on datapad on his desk. While storing data on external systems was largely redundant, the Primarch had wanted a backup anyway. It seemed that even partially synthetic DNA wasn’t enough to stop bureaucracy from happening.

And then he heard it.

At first he thought it was the wind, blowing through the window. But then he heard it again.

He glanced down at his omni-tool. No, that wasn’t it.

 _Bob?_ he ventured. “Is that you?” he mumbled aloud.

Silence. No sound of Reaper joints creaking.

As he turned it came again. A whisper. A breath.

A gasp.

It couldn’t be. Not now, not after this long.

“S-Shepard?” he whispered. A wish, a prayer that he thought he could never be allowed to make anymore, not after he had pressed the cold metal with her name on it against that wall, that damned wall…

_I’m sorry_

He rushed out of the door, ran down the steps and out through the main entrance of the Bureau. Passing turians and alien aid workers stared at him, but he hardly noticed. If they could pick up on his thoughts, they would not have been able to make any sense of it.

“Bob!” Garrus shouted, for the first time in months and as hard as he could with his mind. _Please, if that is real and if that voice is not from my own head, my own wishful thinking, I need to…I have to…_

A huge shadow fell over him, and the familiar creaking sound that announced the Reaper’s arrival that had once brought dread, now brought him relief. _I am here._

Garrus fell on his knees. “The Citadel. Shepard. She’s still there, isn’t she. I heard her,” he gasped out, lungs aching from the sprint, mind unable to form a coherent thought stream to convey to the Reaper.

The Reaper landed before him. He felt his heart sink, as he felt the Reaper as its mind searched through the flurry of memories he flung at it. What if it was truly his imagination? Could part-synthetic creatures still fantasize of things that could never be? He had seen so many deaths back when he was in training in his younger days, when he was at C-Sec. He had seen so many who had lost their mates sink into pitiful delusions, some still thinking they could hear their loved ones’ voices.

He looked up, silently pleading as the Reaper rose slightly. To his surprise, it lowered a leg, forming a ramp up to its interior.

Garrus inhaled deeply, running up those steps. Opening his omni-tool, he linked to Liara.

“Liara, I’m going to be gone for a bit,” he said, barely containing his excitement.

“What? Garrus, where are you going?”

“If I’m right, to rescue a certain damsel in distress.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Keepers are pretty useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!

Six months back, right after Garrus had said his final goodbyes to Shepard, after the strange green beam had swept the galaxy, Joker had reluctantly taken the Normandy to full speed as far away from the Citadel as possible to escape the destructive effects of close contact with the beam’s power. Most of the surrounding ships had made it too, but most had exhausted most of their fuel moving away. Still, it only took about two days before the Alliance moved in to search the Citadel for the bodies of Anderson and Shepard.

Instead they cleared out thousands and thousands of human corpses, harvested from the time the Reapers had most of Earth in captivity.

When EDI, Tali and Garrus had finally managed to repair the Normandy after its desperate crash landing on the planet Mare, it had been four days. When they had arrived in range of Earth’s limited communication field, the Alliance had found Anderson’s body and identified most of the corpses, with the help of the Reapers, whose help they accepted grudgingly out of Hackett’s desperation to find Shepard. Since all of the corpses were found in a single chamber, piled together like stores of meat, it was safe to assume that Commander Shepard was not amongst them. The Reapers had stated this. Alliance researchers and search teams affirmed this. EDI’s analysis confirmed this.

But she was also not anywhere else.

 

 

“Garrus, I know we were all upset about the Commander’s death…” started Joker.

“I’m not hallucinating,” Garrus growled, though slightly unsure of himself. He leaned against a non-functioning control panel within the Reaper’s cockpit. There weren’t any chairs inside, though he supposed the repurposed organics hadn’t needed to sit.

“…but there’s no need to go and get yourself _killed what the hell were you THINKING,_ Shepard would _kill_ you if you aren’t already dead, and how is the Reaper even letting you _communicate,_ _holy shit_ this must be some kind of psychological tactic to lull us all into a false sense of—“

 _I am doing no such thing_ , hummed the Reaper in a voice that hardly sounded like a voice, more like an idea that somehow could be heard in the air in no known language. Garrus froze, and there was complete silence from his omni-tool.

“…w-was that…?” Joker all but whispered.

Garrus sighed, shaking his head. “Look, if you’re so worried, meet me at the Citadel,” he suggested. “And maybe bring some help. EDI, James, Kaidan, whoever you can get your hands on. I kinda left Liara behind, but there wasn’t time to get her.”

There was a pause. “Well. Okay then. Sounds like you are thinking this through. Though theoretically there aren’t any more hostiles we have to look out for, right? We’ll be there to pick you….and…anything else you find…up. You’ve got your gear, right?”

“Um…”

“...I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The Reaper made a sound that sounded like the equivalent of an exasperated sigh.

 

 

He hadn’t believed that she was gone. Turians did have funerals for those missing in action, and there were plenty of those when lives were lost in warfare involving violent explosions or aircraft simply disintegrating in space. But those were for soldiers, for the many pawns of the Hierarchy. For mere men like himself. Not for the living embodiments of spirits like Shepard.

Not for the woman he loved.

Not even when his green-glowing mind and newfound logical abilities and _every synthetic nerve_ in his body told him that _she was dead._

 

 

The Reaper docked somewhere along the rim of the Citadel, on the Presidium. Garrus had wondered if it would try docking at where Sovereign had docked all those years ago, when they were fighting Saren right where the Council once stood.

“Does that spot have bad memories for you, Bob?” asked Garrus, aloud, knowing that the Reaper would understand where he was referring to.

 _It no longer exists,_ it simply said. Garrus didn’t question it—the synthetics were never known to answer a lie. It just didn’t come with the programming.

Once he had set his two feet on the familiar marbled floors of the Presidium, the Reaper rose and turned to leave. _I will scan the perimeter and sense for lifeforms._

“Thanks,” he said, taking off in whatever direction his feet would take him.

It was so strange, running around the Presidium when it was completely empty. It was usually full of people from everywhere, and there wasn’t even any humming of machinery anywhere.

Complete silence everywhere.

He slowed down.

He heard the silent whisper of a gasp, a struggled breath for air.

He continued running.

 

 

Garrus wanted to thank Shepard for letting him hunt Saren with her. He wanted to thank her for returning for him, when he had forgotten what he was and what he stood for in Omega. He also wanted to thank her for letting him love her.

 

 

When he first started at C-Sec they had him patrolling one of the corridors of the Wards. It was a dull job, and all he did was sit there, holding his rifle, and ignoring little aliens who stared at him with their mouths wide open.

So he had observed the keepers, though they didn’t seem to do much. Basic repairs and maintenance with their little delicate pincers. After a couple of hours one would forget that they were there, and one would hardly notice as it scurried away to its next destination.

But he had been bored enough to memorise this particular Keeper’s route.

Trailing along the deserted corridor, he noticed the Keeper scuttling through a door that he hadn’t seen it move through before. Garrus wished he had more weapons other than the knife in his omni-tool, now knowing that the Keepers had been servants of a greater and darker cause. Still, they didn’t seem to exhibit any more intelligence than a generic VI did, and weren’t affected by the beam.

“Now where are you going, you creepy metallic spider,” Garrus muttered, darting through the door before it closed. Glancing up, he realised that there was now a crudely hacked doorway that seemed to have been cut recently. There were signs of recent activity here, and he noticed a partially crushed paper sign that read “Investigation in Process”. Through the doorway was a passageway, and it was through this passageway that the Keeper was now making its way into.

It had to be one of the secret tunnels the Keepers used, and Garrus’ suspicions were confirmed as the horrid smell of blood and corruption grew stronger. He recalled Hackett’s reports about the mountains of human bodies they had found. He emerged from the passageway into a large hall, where low hanging tubes hung everywhere and odd reddish-brown stains formed a gruesome carpet beneath his feet.

He briefly imagined the red stains as blue and deep purple, and felt even more sickened.

 _Turian, there is a disturbance up ahead in a chamber. Unsure if lifeform as radiation too faint._ “Bob”’s presence appeared in his mind, and Garrus nearly tripped over his own feet in surprise.

“Got it,” he thought. Walking across the corridor, he noticed the faint outline of footprints. The search-and-rescue teams must have been here, scoured the area and retrieved every body they could find.

 _Not every one_ , he thought to himself, his pace picking up as he stepped through the door with determination. Before him now was a long bridge, and he almost imagined Shepard had been standing right here just six months ago. Maybe she had been with Anderson. Maybe he was ahead. Garrus started jogging. He saw giant arms of metal stretched out far beside the bridge, but they weren’t moving. Had Shepard seen them too? He sprinted up the long flight of stairs.

And then he arrived at the large round hall, with a lovely view of Earth. His heart sank as he turned his head frantically. Where was …anything? The room was empty. There were little markers placed around the room for evidence, though it infuriated Garrus that for once he hadn’t any access to information about it. He saw the white outline of where a body had been found by the dais, and beside it was a bloodied cap. Garrus walked to it and realised it was Anderson’s hat. Someone had left a cut flower beside it, long dried and withered up.

They had been here. And she still wasn’t there. Or anywhere. Garrus paced anxiously back and forth before the dais, trying to think. Where could she be? Bodies didn’t just disappear, not when they had found the Illusive Man’s and Anderson’s. This was the last place they had been, this was the last place the search teams had found, this was _it,_ wasn’t it?

So he stepped onto the platform and punched the unlit control panel like an angry child.

The lift lurched upwards, and Garrus nearly lost his balance. “What in the—“

_There was a sudden surge in --- organic---- on the correct pathway---_

“Bob?” Garrus said, aloud. The thoughts were fractured, and he glanced down. He could probably jump down and only break _one_ leg. “Shepard?” he whispered, as he turned to look up at wherever he was being taken to. It looked as though he was headed straight for the ceiling, but his visor seemed to give him a contradictory reading. Stretching out his long arm, he deployed the omni-tool knife. The lift rose further and the knife tip reached the ceiling…only to slip right through it. Sweeping his arm sideways, he encountered no resistance from the ceiling. A perfect holographic barrier. He kept his eyes open as the lift carried him through the barrier and straight into yet another great hall, brightly lit.

His eyes widened as he realised he was standing before the Crucible.

A long narrow pathway led straight forward, with two branches that led to metallic contraptions he definitely didn’t remember being in the blueprints for the Crucible or in the architectural models of the Citadel’s interior. He stepped forward, intending to step to the one on the right.

And then it appeared.

Straight ahead on the path there suddenly shot out a green laser vertically down from the Crucible. In surprise, he stepped back, shielding his eyes from the light. The readings on his visor went wild as the laser seemed to increase in intensity.

Then it stopped, and all the lights around him in the hall faded to darkness. His eyes were focused on the small cloud of green particles swarming on the ground. He heard the sound of wind rushing about, and he fell to the ground on one knee as it grew stronger. He registered streams of data that seemed to enter from all directions, flowing toward that cloud. He reached out a hand, and his mandibles fell open in shock as he realised some of that data was coming from him. Garrus swore internally. An obvious trap, and he had fallen straight for it. His father would be _so_ proud.

The lights began to turn on again, and as they did, the swarm of light grew thicker. Garrus pushed himself upright as he saw that the lights resembled something that looked rather familiar.

“Spirits…” he breathed, as he took a step forward.

The outline of the figure grew more distinct, and the swarm of lights concentrated further into its form. The streams of data faded, and the lights began to dim, revealing none other than Commander Jane Shepard, standing there in her usual uniform, looking bright eyed and without a scar on her face.

“Shepard!” Garrus yelled, running forward. He didn’t care if it was a trap, if it was a hallucination—if he was going to die in the arms of an illusion, it wouldn’t matter if it had seemed real to him.

The hug that the figure returned about his waist felt real. Her hair as it tickled his jaw felt real enough. The warmth that he felt under his six fingers felt real too.

“About time you obeyed orders,” he gasped out, as he felt the individual strands of her hair along his fingers, just as he remembered them in days that felt like a lifetime ago.

“I’ve missed you too, Garrus,” she whispered back, and when he heard her voice again he held her tighter.

She gently pulled away from him, laughing slightly. “I think I’m mostly healed, but I’m sure my ribs could still break.” Shepard—for it really was her, he was certain—grinned at him. Even the scars from the Lazarus Project were gone.

“Is it really you?” he murmured, heart freezing for a moment as he touched her face where he remembered the scar had been. It had covered her jawline from her left ear down to her chin. He had once run his tongue along it. After that she never complained about that one scar. “But you look…”

“I suppose they took a while to put me back together, but I guess I pulled through. I had a promise to fulfil, after all,” she said, putting a hand to his. It didn’t pull his hand away from her foreign yet familiar face. It was a statement—an invitation to see the differences for himself, while also an assurance that whatever he would find meant nothing.

He moved his hand to her shoulder, and she moved her hand to his waist. She smiled as she looked into his eyes.

“Though, I suppose perhaps I did make the wrong decision after all. Green eyes really don’t match your usual armour.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cold metallic wall with the names of those lost would lose one of the latest additions to it.   
> And no one would be upset with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise the formatting for the first chapter didn't show up properly. This must have caused some confusion because italics are important, dammit.  
> I've been posting these at 12 to 1am. I should stop writing this late. Words don't flow as easily then, but still I torture myself like this.
> 
> I apologise, my romance writing skills are very rusty/non-existent.

As Garrus watched Shepard as she lay on the bed, curled up into a ball fast asleep, he couldn’t believe that she was really there with him on the Normandy again.

When they had made it back to the Presidium, the Reaper had confirmed with what sounded like surprise that the identity of the person with him was indeed Commander Shepard, she who had once wreaked havoc amongst their ranks. Shepard had tensed, grabbing onto Garrus’ arm.

“Who is that,” she had said, tensing visibly, fingers reaching for a pistol that wasn’t there.

“That, my sweetheart, is a Reaper. I call him Bob. Thanks to whatever it was you did, now we are all supposedly at peace. And now we’re also all made of the same stuff,” he had replied, and her eyes went blank.

“I…see,” she said. He hadn’t pressed her as to what had happened six months before, and he supposed that she would open up later, in her own time.

He didn’t think she would appreciate going home in a Reaper either.

“Garrus, we’re at the Citadel. Where are you?” Joker’s voice buzzed through his omni-tool.

“Joker? Is that you?” Shepard said, grabbing Garrus’ arm.

“….Commander? Are you serious? Son of a—did you hear that, EDI?”

“Shepard, we will need to run full diagnostics on you…”

“I thought you were alive now. Shouldn’t you be a little mor—aah, now you’re hugging me too tight. Aaaargg—“

“We’re on the Presidium. Can you reach us?” Garrus could still feel the happy tingling in his stomach from seeing Shepard again, but she was leaning quite heavily on him, and her skin seemed paler than he remembered.

“Y-yeah. Not a problem.” As Garrus cut the connection, he heard Joker mutter, “Holy shit, I can’t _believe_ it…”

Before long, the Normandy swooped in, landing on the small patch of empty pavement before him. He knew that it would have been impossible for Joker to have landed under such constraints before, but whatever Shepard did had improved the aircraft—as well as the pilot’s—tech abilities.

“I can think of….about thirty-two rules this…landing would break,” mumbled Shepard, smiling slightly.

“Stay with me,” Garrus said, arm tightening around her. “Almost there.”

“I’m fine…just….exhausted.” As the door of the Normandy opened and they stepped into it, she added, “The result of being just recently…pieced together, I suppose.”

 

 

While he would have loved to spend the rest of their journey to Earth lying beside her and listening to the reassuring sound of her breathing, he figured that he owed the rest an explanation.

Mostly because as he was carrying Shepard to her old quarters, Kaidan had appeared beside him and said, “Garrus, I think you owe us an explanation.”

Humanity’s second Spectre was quick to the chase.

Garrus strode to the cockpit where Kaidan and Liara stood behind Joker and EDI. It seemed a little small, and Garrus felt a little claustrophobic as all eyes went to him when he entered.

“So nice to see the crew together again,” he muttered.

“Hey Garrus, glad to see you’re in one piece. And not dead. I mean, you jumped into a _Reaper_ and went to a classified warzone area—“ started Joker, before Liara folded her arms and coughed slightly.

“What he _means_ is that while we are positively ecstatic that Shepard is alive, it is…admittedly beyond logical possibility that we could have found out, since we found her armour in London blown to pieces, and….” She stepped forward, and looked at him with large eyes. “Please tell us how you knew.”

Garrus almost took an involuntary step backwards, and mentally applauded himself for that. It was hard to resist those pleading eyes. “It…it’s crazy, but I…I kind of…heard voices. Not really voices, sometimes, just…breathing. It sounded like…Shepard’s breathing.”

Kaidan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Uh…huh. Breathing.”

Garrus merely looked at him briefly before turning back to Liara. “Yes. So. I…thought it was crazy, but then…” He rested his forehead on his forefinger, trying to organise his thoughts so it came out more coherently. “It had been…has been six months. If I was going to be hallucinating, it shouldn’t have taken this long. Not to mention, we are already reaching the point of being mind-readers, right? I had hoped that somehow….her thoughts had reached Palaven.”

“That’s crazy,” said Kaidan, shaking his head. “And you didn’t tell us.”

“There wasn’t time, and maybe he came just at the right time, seeing as she seemed completely exhausted,” pointed out Liara.

“Actually, she wasn’t even…there.” Garrus then explained how he had found her, through the tunnels, following the Keeper, the large halls and finally the last part with the Crucible, and where she had appeared from nowhere. When he was done explaining everything, everyone just stared at him. He blinked, then sighed internally. Even the tale sounded absurd to him, and he had been there.

“I….can hypothesise…er, make a guess, that perhaps as she was being…formed, as you say, she managed to send out her thoughts. And in our new forms, Garrus having been the most intimate relation to her had been able to catch on bits and pieces of them,” said EDI as she tilted her head sideways in contemplation.

Garrus shrugged, ignoring the fact that his neck was warming slightly. “We could ask her when she wakes up.”

Then the door slid open and Shepard strode right in, expression serene. “What am I missing?”

Garrus turned, instinctively putting an arm about her. “Shepard. We were just talking about you,” he said conversationally, as though they hadn’t been wondering how she wasn’t still dead.

“Oh, Shepard,” managed Liara before she rushed forward and grabbed Shepard in a tight hug, while Garrus managed to get his arm away just in time. Kaidan too, walked over, and when Liara finally moved away Kaidan gave her a brief hug. EDI stood up and gave her as warm a hug as a metallic body could, and Joker settled for a salute.

“So…is someone going to ask me whether Cerberus is involved?” said Shepard, without malice.

“If they were involved, I would give the Illusive Man a big, wet, sloppy kiss for bringing you back. If he wasn’t dead, that is.” Kaidan paused. “Unless he’s coming back too, but I think I did see for myself his body being sliced up into ribbons for research purposes.”

“No, I don’t think he’s going to come back. The Catalyst didn’t even give a hoot about him,” she replied with a smile, but after she finished her eyes glazed over as she stared out the window. “Oh,” she mumbled.

“What is it?” asked Garrus, touching a hand to her elbow.

“I remember…how I died.” The corner of her mouth twitched upwards. “Again.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it now…” started Liara, but Shepard shook her head.

“It’s okay. They…it…brought me back. There was a beam from the Crucible inside the Citadel, and then the Catalyst…this little boy who I couldn’t save…I think that was just his appearance, though. He told me that if I joined that beam, it would dissipate my DNA to the universe to…do something called synthesis,” she said, her voice managing to remain almost calm throughout. Garrus’ sharp ears caught the slight tremor, and his hand moved to hold her arm. Her hand moved up to cover his.

“Synthesis. So that’s why we ended up like this, all kinda glowy and suddenly able to do more math?” said Joker, giving a meaningful look at the circuit lights on his own arm.

“He….it…the Catalyst said it was the final form of evolution. But I couldn’t bear to destroy all the geth and, well, EDI, which would have been what happened if the Crucible was set to destroy all the Reapers.” She closed her eyes, her grip tightening around Garrus’ fingers. “And so I jumped. And then…I disintegrated.”

“You sacrificed yourself…for the geth?” breathed Garrus.

“Then you have my eternal gratitude, for what you did for me too,” said EDI, lowering her head.

“I’m…flattered, but I just couldn’t bring myself to….control all the Reapers. To be part of them.” She shook her head. “Perhaps I was being selfish, and now this burden has been passed on to …everyone in the universe.”

“No. Do not say that, Shepard. This form of evolution is…acceptable. Though we now live amongst those we once considered our enemies, we have learned even more, and civilisations are likely to advance in even greater leaps and bounds from now on,” said Liara, quickly.

“Given those choices, Shepard, I don’t think anyone would blame you,” added Kaidan. “We’re just all…really glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, now I can drive the Normandy without even touching the controls,” said Joker, raising his hands in the air while buttons on the keyboard lit up.

Shepard smiled, but Garrus couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

“Well, I suppose if the beam could take me apart, it could also put me back together, gathering all the little bits of me from wherever it sent me originally,” she said, raising a hand and staring at it. “And they put me back together even better than Cerberus did. Even took six months.”

“Yeah, and now that I remember, the world wasn’t really prepared for the Return Of Commander Shepard Part 1. Will the Alliance be happy with Part 2?” asked Joker. “I’ve set a course for Earth, but if you’d rather just…disappear forever, I could just as easily drop you off at Palaven with Garrus.”

“Isn’t Garrus working closely with the Hierarchy and the Primarch now? They could probably figure out if she went there,” said Kaidan.

“That isn’t a problem. I have some contacts who could still make someone as prolific as Commander Shepard disappear from the public eye,” said Liara, with confidence. “Bringing her to Earth would probably be most comfortable. They have quite a few buildings repaired now which would be more than adequate living quarters for a war hero.”

Shepard glanced at Garrus, who kept his face expressionless.

“Earth,” she decided, softly.

 

 

 

They were standing in front of the dreaded wall, with all the names of those loved and lost.

“They couldn’t even put my full name there. Rank and surname.” She chuckled as she placed her delicate and unscarred fingers on the surface of the metal. Fingertips glowing blue, she focused her biotics on the hardened adhesive, until the metal plaque slid easily onto her palm. Garrus did nothing but watch as her fist, gripping her own name, rested firmly onto Anderson’s name.

“I am sorry I don’t have the right to remove his name,” she whispered, lowering her head for a few moments. When she straightened, she turned to Garrus. “You’re still angry at me.”

Garrus’ mandibles stiffened. “I have no right to be, Commander.”

“You’re mad because I almost…I didn’t come back alive. Because I knowingly sacrificed myself.”

“For the geth, no less. I know we’re at peace with them now, but it wasn’t so long ago that—“

“What I did was similar to what Legion did, which saved the quarians.”

“Legion did it for the geth. His own people,” Garrus’ voice was still low, but so, so controlled.

“I did it for everyone. It was the only option for extended peace. And frankly, none of the options I was given would have spared me.”

“I know.”

Shepard’s eyes widened momentarily. “I’m sorry to have worried you, but as a soldier of the galaxy I was prepared to do it. And I know you would have done the same.”

“I would have,” he affirmed.

Shepard stepped forward and put her arms about his waist. “I’m glad you came.”

“You called.” Garrus’ arms went around her shoulders.

She didn’t say anything for a while. “I…don’t remember if I did. I know I thought of you, before I jumped. And I think maybe…I wouldn’t really have come back if you hadn’t gone there. You were probably like a walking container of loads of little bits of me.”

“Good thing you called the right guy, then,” he murmured, as the strands of her hair tickled his nose. He leaned back to look at her. Her eyes were still the same red that he remembered, and her skin didn’t glow green like his. She looked like a fragile doll, but he was certain that even if her body was new and not battle scarred this was still Commander Shepard of N7 rank, who could still probably destroy anyone who tried to stand in her way.

And he loved her.

He leaned forward and kissed her passionately on the lips, and she eagerly returned it.

 

 

 

“Primarch Victus, we just got a message from Garrus Vakarian. Apparently he’ll be coming back in about a week.”

“Coming back? When did he leave?”

“Just now, sir. With Bob.”

“ _Who?_ ”

“Uh. The Reaper. The one who he worked with as part of the project to revert the Marauders and Brutes back to their original forms.”

“…well, I suppose he has earned a bit of leave.”

“The Reaper has returned, though. Should I ask it to, um, come in?”

“I’ll speak to it later. Thank you, Mireen.”

“No problem, sir.”

 

 

 

Earth, under the command of Admiral Hackett and multiple subcommittees from the different nations and other leaders, had been quick to bounce back, proving once again that the newest kid on the intergalactic block was not to be messed with. London looked to be much better than Garrus had recalled when they had gone, meaning that most of the debris was gone and there were actually quite a few buildings standing.

“And of all the buildings that survived, the apartment that I was locked in after I turned in the Normandy managed to stand,” muttered Shepard as she studied the latest maps uploaded locally, using her omni-tool.

They were now standing outside the office that the head of the London rebuilding project occupied. Hackett had apparently moved off to another city, Vancouver, and Kaidan had bid them farewell because he said he still had business there. Liara had returned to Palaven to oversee the remaining administration matters regarding the results of their successful reconversion trial. The London head had taken one look at Shepard before grabbing her hand in a firm handshake, and immediately ordered his secretary to fill up all the forms on Shepard’s behalf for previously missing soldiers (“You have forms for that now?” “You’ll be surprised how few of them we’ve had to use so far. We’re having hopes, though.” “….carry on the good work, sir.”) and add an annex to channel the respective properties to Shepard’s account. He then showed them the door and thanked her again before saying, “You’ve done enough. I don’t suppose you’d want a break, perhaps look around? If Hackett wants something from you, he’ll get in touch, but until then you have weeks to yourself.” Garrus could have kissed the man.

There were no taxis or available civilian transport, since fuel supplies were in high demand and allocated mostly to aircraft and repair vehicles. Fortunately Shepard’s block was only a few kilometres away, and they had a slow stroll down the street, her hand in his large one.

“I’d never been to London, well, before my house arrest,” she said, smiling wanly.

“What’s there to see here? Is it different from most other human cities?”

“Well, there’s a really old clock tower called the Big Ben—“

Garrus guffawed, trying to control his laughter. She glared at him.

“Is...is that meant to be a joke?”

“…no?”

“Oh. Well.” He looked away, trying not to laugh.

“But it _was_ very old, and I doubt it could have withstood the death laser of a Reaper.”

Garrus tilted his head. “If you like, I could always ask one of them to rebuild it for you.”

“One of them?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously.

“Bob owes me some favours. Well, he is a Destroyer. Was, a destroyer. Owes me for destroying a bunch of my favourite places in Cipritine back on Palaven.” _Not to mention people._ It was still hard to make a joke about the Reapers, even though they worked together now.

“Talking about people, have you met your father and sister?”

Garrus paused. “You read my thoughts.” He had deliberately avoided touching on this subject.

Shepard blinked. “I…you didn’t say that out loud.”

“Yes, actually this is something we can all kind of do now. We being pretty much every sentient thing in the galaxy, thanks to you doing a dive into the Crucible. I thought you wouldn’t have this ability, since you don’t have the odd side effect of glowing green.”

“Huh.”

Garrus let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. He had been worried that she hadn’t changed the way the rest of them did, and would think them all strange and run away to…somewhere. He mentally berated himself for thinking of such a thing. “Anyway. Yes. My father and sister. They are still on another outpost, a turian colony. Last I heard he was trying to help repair that colony. They were hit pretty hard by the Reapers too, and communications aren’t fully up and running yet, at least far enough to get a message this many lightyears away.”

“That’s good to hear,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze.

They reached the apartment block, and climbed the stairs (predictably, the lifts were out) up the five floors to her apartment. As they stepped in, he took in the spartan decorations. Bare necessities of a chair and a table for the sitting room, a tiny kitchen. Her bedroom consisted of a single small bed and a bedside light.

He put an arm around her as he thought of how she’d been confined to this space for half a year.

“It’s alright. Now you’re here too. It won’t be like what it was then,” she said, replying to the thoughts he knew he didn’t voice out.

“Well, I only saw one tiny bed, Shepard. Maybe I should leave,” he said, leaning down to purr in her ear.

“I’m sure we could share,” she replied, pressing herself against him in a way he certainly agreed with.

 _I concur,_ he thought, before all thoughts were silenced with her lips against his mouth.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Garrus visit the rest of the old crew.

Shepard wasn’t one to delay things.

“Garrus? Are you awake?”

He shifted beneath the blanket, groaning. “No.”

“It’s _already_ morning, officer. If we wake up any later we’ll be standing in the sun.” She shoved at his shoulder, and Garrus threw the blanket off from over his head.

“Spirits, Shepard. After that performance last night you’re still this energetic?” He ran a hand down his tired face, and pushed himself up to a sitting position. Shepard rolled her eyes, and pulled the rest of the blanket off him, revealing the rest of his equally gloriously unclothed body. She unceremoniously straddled him, thoroughly enjoying herself as his eyes widened as she pressed herself against him.

“I thought you were in a hurry,” he purred, though his arm that circled her waist said something otherwise. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his.

“I gave us buffer time of an hour. You know, usual military style,” she whispered.

 

 

Later, when she emerged from the shower, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. As she hung the towel to dry, and couldn’t help but keep looking at her waist and chest, which were conspicuously missing their scars.

“I know the view is nice, but…”

She jumped when Garrus entered her view of the mirror from the side. “Woah. Warn a girl before you do something like that.”

“I called your name like thrice. You’ve been standing here for a really long time.” He looked at her, head slightly tilted. She half expected him to make a crack about her exhibitionist tendencies, half wanted him to pretend he didn’t know what she was thinking. Unfortunately they knew each other too well to do that. He reached out a hand and touched her on the waist, exactly where she had been examining.

“Are you bothered that the scar that used to be here is gone?”

She turned away and began pulling on her clothes that she’d set out on her bed. “A…little.” With a heavy sigh, she walked over to her small table and grabbed the comb. “It makes me wonder if…after so many changes, I wonder if I’m really still me.” She gave a wry smile, as she forced her rebellious hair through the teeth of her comb. “I’m clearly one of the last people who should go for aesthetic surgery and alterations if I keep getting identity crises from external changes.”

Garrus seemed taken aback. “Is this because I…because of what I said when you first appeared on the Citadel?” His face was visibly shattered. “I shouldn’t have doubted that it was you, I’m so sorry, I—“

“No, Garrus, my dear, “ she said quickly, walking forward and putting a hand on his arm. “I would have done the same. I mean, we’ve all gotten used to my post-Cerberus face. Suddenly I’m back from the dead again, all scars gone. I think if I were you I might have just shot you, questions later.”

Garrus still looked very concerned, oddly clear despite turians not usually expressing this much emotion on their faces. He tried for humour, she saw. “Well, fortunately I was in such a hurry to chase the voices of ghosts that I forgot to bring my rifles.”

She reached up and touched his face with her hand. “Never mind this, let’s get going.”

 

 

“I…still can’t believe this is our ride,” Shepard muttered, feeling herself tense in every muscle, training kicking in. All she wanted to do was dive behind the nearest pile of rubble, assemble a Mattock, or maybe one of those shotguns, and then maybe hurl a few dozen grenades before running like hell in the opposite direction.

Instead she stood there, chest out, stomach in, refusing to take a step back behind Garrus, as the Reaper descended before her.

 _I can sense your fear, Shepard. Rest assured that I have no more desire to destroy you._ The Reaper Destroyer’s projected thoughts did little to assuage her. Still, she didn’t have any weapons, and she supposed that if it was going to end her, it could have done that any time. Not to mention, she had apparently missed out on six and a half months’ worth of reconstruction, which apparently had the contribution of the Reapers to thank for the speedy recoveries.

She had to admit, though, that the only reason she hadn’t started screaming and sprinting her way across London was because Garrus wasn’t.

“Thanks for offering to bring us there, Bob,” Garrus’ voice appeared in her mind, and she stared at him with a raised eyebrow. He turned to her, uncomprehending of the look she gave him for a moment, and then his eyes widened. “Oh,” he said aloud. “Right. Sorry, Bob here is trying to encourage me to use the whole…mind speak thing.”

 _It is a more convenient form of communication, one that your actions have allowed all lifeforms to benefit from, Shepard. Of which we are very grateful._ The Reaper seemed to try to give a slight bow of thanks, and the sight was so ludicrious Shepard’s mouth dropped open. She quickly closed it.

“Uh. Right. Let’s…just get going, shall we?”

 

 

 

She wasn’t quite sure how she would have dealt with the sight. When she had seen Anderson’s name on the Normandy’s wall she felt as though something inside her just went numb.

She’d already seen him die beside her. She had felt the tremor of the pistol as her finger pulled the trigger, the vibration reverberating through her controlled body. She would have screamed then, but the Illusive Man’s hold on her was too strong for that. Just as well. Anderson would not have liked it if she had screamed.

But when Shepard walked out of the Reaper and beheld the gigantic monument and the bust of none other than David Anderson himself carved in black marble in the front, she fell to her knees on the gravel. Some of it scraped through her dress pants and cut into her flesh, but she didn’t care.

“Shepard,” she heard Garrus say, putting a hand on her shoulder. That snapped her out of her trance. She pushed herself up, ignoring his offered hand, and strode forward to the monument. She lifted her head, reading the words on it. It sounded like some typical war monument literature, an ode to the bravery of the many humans whose lives were lost.

Bravery. There was no bravery when some of them were snatched up from wherever they stood when the Reapers descended from nowhere, sending them to be processed into raw material in the Citadel. There was no bravery when children in school were just sitting there, when all of a sudden they were crushed to death under the ceiling as it fell from the weight of a Reaper, or as the building was annihilated with a swoop of the unescapable red laser. She thought of how generations from now, when the past was forgotten, people would sing of the brave deeds of humanity as they stood in hand with other races to defend their worlds from the Reaper onslaught.

It had been, for the large part, a slaughter.

She wanted to retch right there and then.

“I don’t think it would happen like that,” started Garrus, and when she turned to stare at him, he turned away. “Sorry. I couldn’t help but pick up on what you were thinking. Should I stop?”

Shepard thought for a while. “It’s fine.”

“When the quarians tell their children of how the geth drove them out of Rannoch, the geth will now have their side of the story to tell. Likewise, the Reapers who were supposed to be a cruel and emotionless solution to organics will also exist and become integrated into our lives. Not to mention now since we’re all part synthetic I figure the passing on of information would showcase the real brutality of all that’s happened, not just the meaningless babble of what a history book says.” Garrus handed her the flowers that she hadn’t realised she’d dropped on the floor earlier. “But for now, we have this time to mourn, and remember those we have lost.”

Shepard took the flowers, blinking back tears. “Wow. When did you mature this much?”

“Probably some time after I had data circuits running through my bloodstream and the trauma of losing the love of my life?”

She laughed, a genuine one this time, and stepped forward, laying the flowers in front of Anderson’s bust. She stepped back, and gave it a salute.

“Rest in peace, Anderson. You were like a father to me,” she whispered. Turning around, Garrus put an arm about her shoulders, and she leaned into him.

“Garrus?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.”

“Well, thanks for coming back.”

 

 

 

They found Jack and her students in Hong Kong.

“Stop griping, Adrianna. You may not like these vehicles much, but after we’re through with them they’ll be back up to speed, or better. Now get to it!” Her shrill voice rang through the compound of the hangar, where the authorities had set up a base to restart transport for trade and anything else via the geographically convenient location of the city.

Garrus tapped his visor. “I think she managed to project that right through the brains of anyone within a kilometre’s radius. Also, my visor got static. That hasn’t happened in years.”

Shepard laughed. “I guess some things never change.”

When they stepped in, they were greeted by a biotic throw that almost smacked Shepard in the face. Only instincts honed from years of training (and surprises) helped her dive to the ground in time.

“Dammit, Miller, watch where you’re throwing that…holy _shit_ Vakarian, what are you doing here?!”

Shepard lifted up her head to see combat boots striding in their direction. “Nice to see you too, Jack.”

Jack stopped dead in her tracks. “Wait, what—Shepard?! What the _f—”_

“Ah, yes. We hadn’t managed to get the message to you in time, so we thought it’ll be faster to just—“ started Garrus, but Jack had just walked forward and grabbed Shepard by the shoulders.

“ _Damn_ , if this is a clone it’s a damn good imitation of her.” She turned to glare at Garrus. “How could you possibly stoop to such a f— _fricking_ low, you bastard? Dishonouring her memory like—“

“Jack, it’s me. I’m not a clone,” Shepard quickly said. Jack stepped back with surprise, looking unsure. When she looked unsure, it usually meant someone was going to get toasted with her biotics soon, so Shepard gave her a condensed version of all that had happened.

“Seriously? Well, I don’t quite get how you’re still alive, but hey, no need to look a gift horse in the teeth. Mouth. Whatever. It’s great to see you’re not dead, though you sure as hel—uh, heck took your time getting back.” Jack clapped her on the shoulder, and smirked at Garrus. “Good job getting her back, and uh, great to see you two are still together after all that.”

“Well, the last time, she took two years. It’s a massive improvement,” he replied.

“I see you’re still being the excellent teacher. How come you guys have been set to repairing vehicles? When was tech your division?” asked Shepard, looking around. There was a huge range of vehicles around, from aircraft to land rovers. Each had a small team of students working on them. She noticed how many of them stood in green-tinted biotic spheres as they tinkered with the vehicles.

“It became our division when _somebody_ upgraded all of us to suddenly be able to synchronise with every darned piece of tech out there. It’s pretty amazing though, don’t get me wrong. It’s really something to be able to make a Hammerhead accelerate just by _thinking_ it.” She gave a grin that was worryingly wicked. “So now we’re buffing up all the vehicles, giving them major amplifications in speed and endurance.” She gave a side-eyed glance at the uniformed Alliance soldier on the other side of the hangar. “These assholes also wanna make us buff up the offensive capabilities of the vehicles, but the way I see it, since we’re all connected and shit now, if a Reaper caught wind of it he might just wanna zap me first, y’know?” Then she squinted at Shepard. “You’re not gonna…make me buff them up, are you?”

Shepard shook her head. “I think you’ve got a point. Though I suppose the higher ups would say we should be prepared for anything. Anyway, I’m retired. Technically dead. If they force you to upgrade the weapons system, I’m sure you can handle rejecting them easily enough.”

Jack smirked. “Problem is they probably can’t handle my kind of rejection. Glad you see things my way though.”

She took them on a brief tour to meet all the students, some of whom she recalled from the rescue from Grissom Academy. They were all more than familiar with the name of Shepard, and most of them looked more than awestruck.

“That’s right, kids, bask in the glory of her presence. Someday, you guys may be worthy to kiss her shoes,” drawled Jack, and Shepard rolled her eyes. Turning to address the many impressionable teens, she thanked them for their help in the war and praised them for their good work, before giving some hopefully inspiring speech on the importance of having hope for the future. As they left to return to their work, Jack walked Shepard and Garrus out of the hangar.

“It’s great that you dropped by, Shepard, but shouldn’t you and loverboy here be off, I don’t know, making out somewhere?” Jack asked, with another sly smirk.

“Oh, relax, we’ve done plenty of that already,” replied Garrus.

“Ha! But I mean it. If Hackett or whoever tries to drag you back, I’m sure I could help distract them long enough for you and Vakarian here to run off somewhere.”

Shepard smiled. “I thoroughly intend to enjoy this third and possibly last life of mine, but I think I’ll visit everyone first. You know, inform them that I’m still alive and all.”

Jack nodded, and then she looked down, looking a little unsure. After a brief moment, she shook her head, nodded resolutely, then strode forward and put her arms about Shepard. It was an awkward embrace, but a sincere one.

“All the best, Shepard.”

Shepard couldn’t help the large grin that broke out on her own face as she returned the hug. “You too, Jack.”

When they finally left, Shepard realised she still couldn’t help smiling quite a bit.

 

 

 

It was just as big a surprise for Shepard as it was for Tali when they finally met on Rannoch.

“Shepard!” Tali had all but squealed, before giving Shepard one of the most enthusiastic hugs she’d ever experienced in her life. Lives. All three of them so far.

“Who?” Shepard had managed before her windpipe was choked shut.

When Tali had finally released her from her death grip, Shepard had deduced that this strange alien was indeed Tali’Zorah, sans face mask and exosuit. “Wow, so the geth really helped with your immunity and all?”

Tali had moved to Garrus, and before he could defend himself she also had him by her chokehold of affection. “Yes! Well, that and whatever it was you did up there on the Citadel. Now that we’re all part synthetic, I don’t think the traditional kind of illnesses organics get can really affect us. Now most of us don’t wear the suits unless we’re meeting in a big official event.” She invited them all into her new house, which really did overlook a river.

“We thought you were dead, Shepard. At least this time I don’t have to meet you while looking for a missing quarian on hostile ground. And without the terrible surprise of seeing that you’re working for a xenophobic organisation,” Tali said, as she sat the two of them down at a table while she dug out two wooden carved cups for tea.

“I….was dead,” corrected Shepard. Running a hand over the table, she added, “Is this wood? Nice carvings.”

“It’s a kind of mineral on Rannoch.” Tali filled the cups with hot water, then brought them over to the both of them. “I suppose I should stop being surprised. You do have some kind of in-built resistance to death, it seems.”

“You’re taking this news rather well,” commented Garrus, sipping at the tea. “Is this stuff safe for levo—oh wait, that sort of thing doesn’t really matter anymore, does it.”

“It smells lovely, Tali.” Shepard took a sip. It had a minty aftertaste.

“Well, I did hear some rumours. And maybe a short message from Joker tipped me off.”

“Ah, yes, the communications around here must still be pretty strong,” said Garrus, thinking aloud. “Darn. Here we were hoping to surprise you.”

She gave a small smile. “I was surprised. I think I might have screamed. Fortunately there aren’t many people to hear me around here. Except Unit-415, the geth who’s taken residence with me.”

“You’re living with a geth?” asked Shepard, raising an eyebrow.

“They were already our allies, after what Legion did. Then after we all underwent the synthesis, the geth seemed to adapt even more to quarian society. Or maybe we adapted to them.” She shrugged. “We’re finally living in complete harmony. It’s almost like when they were first invented, except now they’re seen as equals in our society.”

“Wow.” Garrus seemed completely flabbergasted, fumbling for words. “So…you, and this….geth. 415. Wow. You two aren’t….you’re not….”

Tali blinked her large luminescent purple eyes tinged with green, and when understanding dawned on her, she her face flushed a pale blue. “G-Garrus! No, it’s not like that, not at all!” She shook her head, covering a cheek with a hand. “It’s a good thing he went out to fetch some machinery parts, otherwise he might well collapse from shock.”

“Would he do that?” asked Shepard, bemused.

Tali folded her arms. “I don’t know, he is of a slightly delicate disposition.” She leaned forward, scowling slightly. “Are you guys here to mock my friend now? Well, why don’t you tell me, why haven’t you started on that human-turian baby of yours? Huh? Ha! How the tables have flipped!”

“You mean ‘turned’,” said Shepard, who felt her cheeks heat up despite managing to maintain her poker face. Garrus, on the other hand, was unfortunately in the middle of a sip of tea, and he choked, doubling over in horrified coughing. Tali laughed, leaning back and nearly toppling right out of her chair.

“W-well,” Garrus managed, between deep coughs. “That was direct.”

“We’ll get to that soon, Tali. Are you going to start a family, then?” Shepard glanced at Garrus, whose neck was still flushed with a very visible blue.

Tali turned away, face suddenly falling. “Ah, about that. It would be…inappropriate for a while, since…Kal’Reegar just passed away.”

Shepard internally cursed herself for forgetting. “Oh. I hadn’t known you two were that…serious.”

Tali closed her eyes. “Well, he had actually…asked me for my hand as a mate before he went to Palaven. He said...even if he didn’t come back, he wanted to know whether I said yes.” She turned back to them. “It’s in our culture that the proposal is just as good as the actual ceremony, and I am technically still in mourning.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Tali. I hadn’t known,” Shepard said, sympathetically. “Well, he would be glad to see that you’re doing fine now.”

Tali brightened up a little. “Yes. He would be glad to see what has happened to the quarians and geth now.” She stood, and walked over to the window. “He would be very grateful to you too. All of us are.”

 

 

 

As they left Rannoch on the aircraft, Garrus slid a hand over Shepard’s on the armrest in the passenger’s cabin. She turned to him, giving him a questioning look.

“Were you serious about the whole running away thing with me after we see everyone? And the, uh, part about working on a…on our child.” He almost managed to keep the blue from his neck, she could see him doing his best. A valiant effort, but in vain.

“Who knows, it may be possible. And now that I’m back again, I think I’ll take my chances with parenting. Especially if it’s with you,” she said, meaning every word she said. She tilted her head forward to meet his forehead, the familiar act reassuring.

“I would love to indulge you on that, but I’m afraid duty still calls on Palaven. Unless, of course, you don’t mind running off with a fugitive, or at least, a rebel.”

“You already are a rebel, my love,” she said, grinning. She leaned back, and gazed into those now-green eyes of his. “I’ll wait for you to complete your work, but if Hackett manages to get to me before you’re done, that would be entirely your own fault.”

His mandibles flared, the very-turian way of grinning. “Now that idea of going rogue sounds _very_ tempting to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I was going to write some mushy thing about Tali getting with Kal'Reegar but in the course of my research I discovered that Kal'Reegar went off and got himself killed on Palaven, which greatly sabotaged my plans for happy family things. Of course, usually that doesn't stop the most determined of fanfiction writers, and I've taken liberties myself with the fact that Shepard is STILL ALIVE IN THIS FIC. But yes I generally like keeping to canon in my stories, and hence poor Reegar remains dead. :(  
> But yeah trying to keep the angst down. I'm trying hard.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's back to work for Garrus, but thanks to a surprise visit, not for long.

“Gaaaarrus.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m booooored.”

Garrus wondered whether he could just keep quiet and ignore her. He scribbled a miserable excuse of his signature with his finger on the datapad, before adding it to the tall stack next to him. Ever since the tests of the reversion therapy for the harvested turians, the other races swamped his office with requests for permission to analyse the cure to see if it could be adapted for their own. Liara had it worse, having to craft literal books detailing the cure and its effects.

Shepard had draped herself over a chair in the corner of his tiny office, staring into her omni-tool screen entertaining herself for the past five hours. He was delighted she’d accompanied him to Palaven, but there was nothing much for her to do.

“Gaaaaarrus,” she tried again, lowering her arm and turning to stare at him.

He stood up, pushing his chair back unceremoniously, stretching his cramped muscles. “Yes, my love?” he replied at last. He glanced at the clock—fifteen minutes. Just fifteen minutes more, and he was free…

Shepard rolled off the chair and landed almost gracefully on her feet. Straightening, she sauntered across the room lazily. She was wearing a rather low cut blouse and shorts, which would probably not be considered appropriate attire for an office, _if_ anyone had known that she was there. She trailed a hand up his arm. “I’m _bored_ ,” she purred into his ear, and he saw that knowing glint in her eye as he felt himself shudder. Garrus hummed as he felt her other hand settle on his backside.

“Now, _Commander_ , if you would just—“ Just then, there was a knock at the door. Shepard pushed away from him and dropped to a crouch behind his desk. Garrus sighed internally as his skin lost contact with hers, but he stood up straight and faced the door just as the door slid open and a turian walked in.

“Sir, the representative from Noveria has arrived. He wants to speak to you about the shipment of the beta strain.”

Garrus couldn’t help himself. He exhaled deeply, and the turian almost jumped in surprise—turians didn’t usually sigh. Garrus gave Shepard a glare, but she was too busy trying to blend into the desk to notice. “Isn’t their representative supposed to come tomorrow?”

“Yes, but their ship reached here unexpectedly early…”

Garrus considered pushing it to Liara, but then mentally berated himself. She had enough on her plate. He stepped out from behind his desk, without glancing back at Shepard as he left. “Very well. Are they seated in the meeting room?”

“Yes, they’re waiting…”

Garrus heard a muffled sigh as the door shut behind him. The turian glanced at him, flicking a mandible curiously. “What was that?”

“What was what?” replied Garrus with as innocent a look as he could muster.

 

 

 

Shepard was bored.

Palaven was pretty different from Earth. Garrus had assured her that the scenery was nicer before the Reapers had arrived and demolished half the architecture. It seemed that after the effects of the Crucible’s beam and whatever Cerberus did to her, she was less affected by the planet’s high levels of radiation and the natural heat that covered it. From what she saw of the other non-turians on the planet, they seemed able to endure the atmosphere without the need for special protective clothes, other than light cloaks.

After grabbing her own cloak draped over the chair she had occupied, she opened the window of Garrus’ office and climbed out, dropping to the ground. It was hard to be inconspicuous when firstly, she was human, and secondly, she was Commander Shepard, saviour of the universe, lover of the one who led the Reaper Task Force. There were a few others of different race hanging around, but most of them were salarians who had offered help in the research project.

She strode out to the main road, ignoring the strange looks the turian guards gave her and giving a cautious nod to those who seemed to recognise who she was. Palaven was doing slightly better than Earth, with their buildings put up faster. She glanced up at the Reapers hovering about with construction materials clutched in their claws and shuddered. No matter what they were doing now, the image of a Reaper and its deadly laser heading straight for us was seared into her mind.

She stopped by the only store in Palaven that stocked levo food. It was run by the wife of one of the salarian scientists. The food was decent, but it did take some getting used to. There was only one dish that day, with a name she couldn’t quite pronounce. She didn’t want to insult the chef by trying to pronounce it anyway, so with a sweet smile she ordered “today’s special” and walked out with a fibre-board box of something that looked like semi-translucent noodles with a red sauce at the side and a chunk of fish. When she stepped out, she looked around, trying to get her bearings, when suddenly she heard a voice call her name.

“Commander Shepard?”

She turned to see a female turian looking at her curiously. She had blue markings on her face, which oddly reminded her of…

“….you’re a Vakarian?” Shepard asked.

Green speckled eyes squinted at her as her mandibles tightened. “Solana Vakarian,” she affirmed, crisply. “Do you know who I—“

Shepard’s eyes widened, and her lips curled into a smile. “You’re Garrus’ little sister!” She reached forward and grasped onto Solana’s hand, and Solana flinched in surprise, but didn’t pull away. “I thought you and your father were on some colony elsewhere.”

“My father is, but I decided I would come and visit my brother and his, um, commander.” Solana tilted her head. “Where is Garrus?”

“Still stuck in the office. So did you just get here?” asked Shepard, releasing Solana’s hand. Solana nodded.

“Yes.” With a small smile she added, “I would offer to take you around, but I suspect you might know this place better than I do.” She looked around, visibly dejected by the sight.

“I’ve only been here for a week, but as it happens, Garrus seems to be fond of this place…”

 

 

 

 

Garrus’ facial muscles were hurting as he struggled to keep his treacherous mandibles from twitching with annoyance. The meeting was dragging on excessively because _accountants_. They were the bane of his existence, he decided. Considering they probably weren’t going to do anything other than sell the cure at an inflated price to some other possibly not-quite-legal buyer, every minute spent in that meeting room was a wasted minute.

“Eight thousand, five hundred and thirty _six_ credits,” repeated the volus, and Garrus could hear the smugness in his voice. “My final offer.”

Just then, his omni-tool buzzed. The administrator accompanying Garrus glanced at him, before turning to the volus. “This isn’t about money…”

Garrus calmed his mind and allowed the information from the omni-tool to synchronise with his brain, then display as text on his visor. It was a message from Shepard.

                _Hey Garrus! I met your sister!_

Attached was an image of Shepard grinning with her face close to Solana’s, which looked both mildly terrified yet amused. He tried his best to hold in a smile, just as another message came in. Transferring it to his visor as before, he couldn’t help but smirk as he saw that it was from Solana.

                _Your girlfriend is so strange. I approve._

“Mr Vakarian, why are you smirking?” snapped the asari representing some big company on Noveria.

Garrus’ attention snapped to the two individuals in front of him. “Because I see that our meeting has concluded, and may I say I am _glad_ for that.” He leaned forward and slapped a large hand on the datapad between them on the table, laying out his fingers fully so his long and untrimmed talons were displayed fully. The asari’s eyes narrowed while the volus jumped in surprise. Picking up the datapad, he stood up to his full height, towering over all in the room. “Our _original_ offer of ten thousand will be our final offer, and we will forget all about the eight thousand five hundred and thirty- _eight_ credits originally offered.” He turned, and the administrator followed, clearly in shock. “If you don’t accept it, well….it’s been a _pleasure_ having you _visit_ Palaven.” He strode out of the room, not even bothering to see if the asari was ready to blast him with whatever biotics she had.

“S-sir, what you just did—the Primarch…” The administrator was clearly shaken by his earlier display.

“Victus told me to organise the population and issue orders, not play the businessman. Not to mention, we don’t actually _need_ credits.” He tossed the datapad, and the man fumbled as he caught it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Noren.”

“Uh, what should I tell the asari?”

“Hopefully, you don’t have to tell her anything, and ten thousand credits will be added to our coffers within the week.”

 

 

 

Solana’s mandibles flared in surprise as she slurped her turian-version of a milkshake. “Did my brother really pick up a toy model of a turian G28 cruiser and make engine noises as he pretended to fly it from your desk to your… _fish tank?_ ”

Shepard nodded sagely. “Yes, three days after we started dating.”

Solana set the glass down. “And then what did you do?”

“Well, I picked up the model of the Normandy and shot it down, of course.”

Solana laughed, hiding her mouth behind a hand. “Perfect reaction. I would have done the same.”

Shepard wiped her mouth and folded the box flat, having finished her salarian fish noodles. It was a good thing the café allowed her to bring food in. Or maybe it was because the first time they went in they recognised Garrus, and more importantly they recognised his glare when they glanced at the box in her hand.

“So, Shepard, I’m curious. Do you have siblings?” Then Solana’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Wait, no, damn, bad question, I am so, so sorry…”

“Oh, er, no I don’t. I didn’t lose any in this war either, it’s okay.” Shepard quickly answered. “I…didn’t have siblings. Or much family, actually. I lost my parents at a young age.” She looked at Solana whose neck was turning blue. “But you know, that just makes me all the more glad to meet you.”

Solana looked up. “Why?”

“Now it’s like I have a little sister too!” Shepard smiled. “That is, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Solana seemed stunned for a while, then looked down. “It’s a very…serious thing you’re….it’s a turian thing—“

“I know. Family is really important to your culture.” Shepard nodded.

Solana closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she smiled the clearest smile Shepard had seen on her all evening. “I would be pleased to accept it.”

“Well, this is a surprise. I hope you don’t mind sleeping on the floor later,” drawled Garrus, as he strolled over to their table. Solana stood, chest out and full of a challenge.

“Brother dearest, I’m surprised you can even afford a floor on your meagre salary of Primarch’s slave,” she retorted, quick on the draw.

“Hmm, well,” Garrus turned and smirked at Shepard. “The Commander here gave me quite the generous bonus for risking my life and charming the stockings off her.”

“You mean socks,” Shepard corrected, as she stood as well.

Solana poked Garrus in the plastron (Shepard couldn’t call it his chest—it was much too convex for a chest). “I hadn’t heard from you in so long, after the war. Two whole months after the war!”

“I’m sorry, Sol. Victus has been keeping me busy,” Garrus said, genuinely apologetic.

“Dad isn’t very happy either,” she added. Shepard wondered where this was going.

“It takes a lot to make Dad happy.”

Solana nodded. “Yes, but he is very proud of you for helping with the war effort and he thinks Victus is a right ass to keep working you, so he made me book you a beachside property for a one month vacation.”

“I see—wait, what?” Garrus took a step back, mandibles flared so wide Shepard wondered if they would break.

“Yes, for you and Shepard,” Solana said, turning to face Shepard.

“Me?”

“Yes. He jokingly said something about grandchildren too.”

Garrus pressed a finger between his eyes in exaggerated agony. “Making jokes now? He _is_ getting old.”

Solana rolled her eyes. “Young enough to build a working satellite and nag his daughter to get to Palaven and talk to you. I’m busy too, you know. They need every engineer they can get.”

“You’re not just any engineer. You’re the best there is,” muttered Garrus, without lowering his hand.

Solana hummed contently. “You know it.”

“Does your father know I’m not a turian?” asked Shepard, raising an eyebrow.

That made Garrus put down his hand. He and Solana exchanged looks.

“I…think so?”

Shepard groaned.

 

 

 

 

“Does Palaven have beaches?” asked Shepard, as she watched the sunlight refracted by the waves scatter across her bare skin. Skinny dipping was always fun, and for once in a long time she didn’t need to think about numerous war scars and patched-together-from-bits-and-pieces scars.

“Well, yes, but we enjoy them for completely different reasons. It’s not like we can get darker, nor would we want to, since the radiation from the sun just does the most _horrific_ things to one’s complexion.” Garrus’ legs were submerged in the water as he sat on the edge of the pool. “The beaches are more like large stretches of metallic salt deposits beside liquid pools of metal and fire. Not exactly a holiday destination.”

Shepard wrinkled her nose. “Then why did you suggest that we retire by a beachfront estate when we were in London?”

Garrus shrugged. “All the human literature I read talked about it as some kind of ideal romantic destination. I figured you either had a thing for scalding your delicate skin off your bones, or that beaches on Earth and possibly some other less sunny planets were actually desirable.”

“Such a clever boy. No wonder C-Sec hired you,” she said, smiling as she imagined Garrus sitting in a corner on the Normandy, squinting at chick lit books on his computer and wondering how boiling in liquid metal was a romantic concept for humans.

Garrus looked up at the beach that was literally fifty metres from their doorstep. “So now that we are actually at a beach that looks rather nice-- white sand and clear water—why are you soaking in the pool?”

Calmly, Shepard replied, “Because the seawater is purple.”

“So?”

“That’s not a usual colour for seawater.”

Garrus threw his hands up in mock annoyance. “It’s so hard to please you.”

“Why aren’t you in the pool?”

Garrus dropped his hands, looking down. “Ah. Well, you see, I’m a little worried about the fact that I’m covered in what looks like circuits and bare electrical currents. Until Liara gets back to me on exactly what this shiny green thing is that you inflicted on all life in the universe, I don’t think I want to get into the water just yet.”

“Have you avoided taking a shower for the past two months?” asked Shepard incredulously.

“Turian air baths put me at no risk of short circuiting my heart,” he replied.

Shepard stood up and turned to face him, smirking as Garrus’ eyes followed the streams of water as they rolled down her skin. “Nothing’s happened yet and I’m in the water. I went through all the changes too, and am probably quite synthetic with all the parts Cerberus added.”

“Well, that’s the _other_ reason I’m not getting in. Maybe the whole pool is just charged up and going to shock my heart into stopping forever if I go in there.”

She gently pushed him down so he lay flat on the tiled backyard floor, and she leaned right over him, keeping her skin a tantalisingly half centimetre away from his own. “I think there are other ways of stopping your heart.”

“We’re not married yet. You won’t get a single credit from me if I die,” he managed to get out, before succumbing to temptation and grabbing her around the waist. He rolled over, flipping her to the ground while cradling the back of her head with his other hand.

“I was thinking more of…re-enacting whatever romance scene you may have found in your human literature,” she said, grinning.

In the end, Garrus did end up in the pool, and nobody short-circuited anything and died, though heart rates may have soared momentarily here and there.

 

But for a long time, neither of their hearts would stop completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOORAY IT'S DONE.  
> I wrote this as therapy for post-ME3 feels. Yes, I finally confess. After the heartwarming farewell by Garrus it seemed tragic that he would be left in the dark, never knowing what happened to her. Yes, I know in reality it may well be that dark, but video games are supposed to be for leisure, I don't want to spend my leisure time crying over some fictitious character's feelings.
> 
> So I wrote this.  
> Thanks for reading. I am contemplating writing a companion-but-not-really fic. Stay tuned.


End file.
